In the Blink of an Eye
by Kelby
Summary: Post-RENT It's amazing how quickly things can change. All in just the blink of an eye. A phone call comes into the loft. Everything goes from there. COMPLETED!
1. chapter 1

A/N Well I'm trying to get back into the swing of things. I've been out of the writing game for awhile now and I want to start back up some. Hopefully this will work out the way I want. I'm not completely sure where this is going to end up. I have a pretty good idea. And seeing as how I hate unfinished stories and leaving people hanging (hint, hint to all my favorites out there who have done that in the recent past!) I plan on finishing this. Currently I'm just not sure how. So we'll see how it goes. I've got a rough outline.

I've also got a number of other rough outlines for other works hopefully to be starting soon. I have no intentions of doing anything as massive as _Another Second Chance_ ever again. Hopefully just a few good quality _reasonable_ length pieces. So with no further ado, I present _In the Blink of an Eye_.

**__**

In the Blink of an Eye

By Kelby

Roger sat on the metal table picking at his guitar. He was too frustrated to really play it, so for the last hour he had been mainly sitting there just picking at it with occasional random tunes coming out.

He hated fighting with Mark. Worst still, he hated when there was a chance Mark could be right. And he was. Deep down Roger knew Mark was right. Mark was always right. Roger just didn't like to admit Mark was right.

So he was wasting his time with this band. Wasting his talent. So what? It's his time to waste. Why couldn't Mark just leave him alone about it. Why does he have to keep harping on him about it? He does it cause he cares about you dummy. Well why can't he care less sometimes?

Roger knew this band sucked. That he was better than them. That yeah, he could probably put together a better band. One that actually had talent. One that showed what he could do. One that might even be able to someday get somewhere.

But what if he couldn't? What if he wasn't as good as he thought. Or Mark thought? What if he couldn't put together a new band? Everything he had been writing lately was such crap. What if what little talent he had was gone? Used up?

God you are such a fuck up! No you're not, Mark would tell you. You've just had bad luck Mark would say. Mark and his damn optimism. Okay stop thinking about Mark. You're mad at Mark. God Mark isn't even here and he's screwing with your head.

Davis you could never put together a new, decent band. Not now. You can't even write anything decent anymore. Hell you couldn't even help your girlfriend stay clean.

Strike that Davis, he thought as he strummed his fingers against the guitar strings. Ex-girlfriend. Mimi is officially your ex-girlfriend. And that was her choice. You tried to help her. Tried to make it easier for her. But in the end you had to do it. You had to make her make a choice. Mark and everybody said you had to do it. And you really thought she'd choose you. That she loved you enough to choose you. That she wanted to quit enough to choose you. But in the end she didn't did she? When you made her choose between you and the smack, she chose the smack.

But you should be proud of yourself Mark keeps saying. You did so much to help her. You stood your ground he says. You didn't let Mimi suck you back into all that, no matter how hard she tried. Yeah right, proud of yourself. The fact that in the end you thought she was screwing her boss may have helped. That and Mark. You knew you couldn't do that to Mark again. Mark had been through too much with you. Mark was the one constant in your life. Mimi was certainly never a constant. Of course you loved her, but you always knew there was a chance she may not come home to you one day. That something better may come along. You knew that. You tried to pretend it didn't matter. Didn't really exist. But it did, and you knew it. So did Mark. But Mark never said anything about it. He just always stood by you. Damn you Mark, it's really hard to be mad at you when all this crap keeps slipping back into the conversations that go on in my head he thought.

That's it. You are mad at Mark. Focus on that. Today isn't about Mimi or anything else, it's about Mark. Mark and his damn need to try and fix your life. Why can't he just leave it alone for once? Why can't he just understand you're happy playing back up for the crappy band? Okay, maybe not happy, but content. Yeah, that's it. Mimi's gone. And you've finally, after four months come to complete and total terms with that. So why can't Mark just let the fact that it's a super crappy band, and that yeah, you're too good for it and you're wasting what little talent you have on it be. Damn you Mark!

Roger knew Mark was right. He also knew Mark only did all that because he really truly cared about him. No one had ever cared about what Roger did as much as Mark. Never in his life. Not his parents or his girlfriends or anybody. Just Mark.

So Mark was right. Mark was always right. And Roger was always wrong. But Mark was always right. This time too and Roger knew it. And that was what was pissing Roger off more than anything else was. That and the fact that if Mark was right, then he probably knew what the real reasons were too. He had too. Mark knew Roger too well. Better than he knew himself sometimes. Which meant Mark probably knew the truth. The truth that kept Roger with the crappy band as a back up guitar player. The truth that, at this point, Roger was scared. Scared to try yet again. Scared to fail. Again. God if you couldn't do it before, when you were clean, sober and actually thought you had a muse in Mimi, what the hell makes you think you can do it now Davis?

But Mark thinks you can do.

"Damn you Mark! You and your damn theories! Your damn arguments! You always end up making me think too much and I end up arguing with myself and getting a headache!" Roger said out loud to the silent and empty loft.

He was tired. That was part of the problem he realized as he let out a yawn. It was after two in the morning when he'd finally gotten home from last night's gig. Mark had been waiting for him. Roger knew it the minute he'd walked in the door. He could tell it by the look on Mark's face. Mark had stayed through the second set but left before the third began. That in itself wasn't unusual, but as soon as Roger walked in the door, he knew Mark was going to come after him about something. And considering it had been a topic of conversation the past few weeks, Roger had a pretty good idea what Mark was going to say. And last night he wasn't in the mood to hear it.

The band had played lousy. The crowd had been lousy. The pay had been lousy. And with all that, Roger had been lousy. And that wasn't Roger. He knew that. Roger didn't play lousy.

Even in his junkie days he didn't play lousy. If he could sit up enough and actually hold the guitar, he tried. Even messed up he put in the effort. When he realized he was too messed up on a daily basis to play, as in really play, he quite. Just stopped. And he didn't touch it again until he was clean. Granted he could barely concentrate on it in the beginning, but he still knew he could do it. And he kept trying. That was on of the things that got him through withdrawal. The fact that he knew the music was still somewhere inside him and all he had to do was find it again. So he kept trying till he did.

So Roger walked in after two in the morning and Mark started in on him. That argument went from bad to worse and lasted over and hour and a half. Finally, at close to four this morning it ended only when they each gave up and stormed off to their rooms.

When Roger woke up this morning Mark was already gone. More accurately, when he got up, Mark was already gone. He woke up after Mark slammed his bedroom door. And the bathroom door. Twice. And then finally the front door. Obviously Mark was still as annoyed at Roger as Roger was at him.

He yawned again as the phone started to ring. He knew it was probably Mark. And he knew Mark was right and that he should swallow his pride and apologize to him. Mark deserved that. But he wasn't ready. Not for all that. No matter how right Mark may possibly be. He wasn't ready to talk to him. Right now he wanted to stay mad at him. It just felt better. Or easier. Yeah, that was it. It was easier to be mad at Mark then think about the possibility that he may have one or two valid points and may possibly be right and know what he was talking about.

As the phone rang for the fourth time he just sat there. As the answering machine clicked on he told himself that no matter what Mark says, you are staying made at him. At least for a little while longer. No matter what. You don't want to talk to him right now.

"Speak." Their voices called out of the machine.

"Mark! Mark? It's Cindy!"

Ewww. If you don't want to talk to Mark, you definitely don't want to talk to his pain in the ass sister. Even Mark doesn't want to talk to his sister.

"Mark? Oh my God Mark!" She almost sobbed into the phone. "Are you there? Answer the damn phone! MARK! Damn it!"

Roger was a little surprised at Cindy. Something was definitely wrong. She basically never called here, but sounding like that? Half crying? Just as he was about to pick up the phone though, she hung up.

The sudden silence in the loft was somewhat unsettling. Roger just sat there for a second. What should he do? Call back? He didn't have the slightest idea what Cindy's phone number was. Find Mark? Mark could be anywhere in New York City at this point. Roger knew he was looking for inspiration for a new project. And with Mark, inspiration could be in any one of the five broughs.

Just then the phone rang again and Roger jumped to answer it. "Hello?"

"Mark? Oh thank God."

"Um, no Cindy, it's Roger. Ah, are you all right?"

"Oh God Roger." She started to sob into the phone. "Oh God…."

Mark realized he was tired as he climbed the steps to the loft. Tired of wandering around New York and not being able to find a thing to inspire him. Tired of not having any money. Tired of living in a dump. Tired of fighting Roger. Tired of being the only one of the two of them that seemed to care what Roger did with his life. Again. Still. Always.

Yeah at the moment that was the biggie. Roger. Roger was the always the biggie for him. Roger was the reason he stressed out over things. Roger was the reason he worried. Tried to help. He had so much damn potential and he was just wasting it away. Other people don't have friendships like this. This co-dependency thing they seem to have. Other people don't have these issues. Other people aren't driven half-mad worrying about their best friends.

Why can't that stubborn, pig headed pain in the ass see you are just trying to help him? Why does he have to be so damn difficult? And stubborn? And down right stupid sometimes? Better question, why do you care so damn much Mark? Other people would have given up on Roger years ago. But not you. Not Saint Mark. No you just have to keep fighting the good fight. The big battle. What is it about Roger that makes you keep doing that? What? You don't know do you? All you know is, for some reason, Roger's worth the fight.

The stairs creaked under his weight as he climbed them, shaking his head as he walked trying to clear it. He didn't want to fight anymore he thought. Arguing with Roger never goes well and last night went worse than Mark had hoped. But he's not going to fight anymore. If Roger wants to just give up, then fine, let him just give up. You can't run his life for him. No matter how much better of a job of it you'd do. So that's it. You aren't going to fight about this anymore. That's it, you're done he told himself. Officially done. For now he realized. He was officially done _for now_. Mark knew perfectly well he couldn't let this go forever. Eventually, he'd end up coming back to it. But for now he was done.

Slowly he turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. He let out a big sigh as he stepped into the quite loft.

"Mark?" Roger called from his bedroom as he stepped out into the living room.

"Roger I'm tired. I want to go take a nap. We were up really late last night. Nothing really worked for me today. And I really don't want to argue with you about this anymore. You want to keep doing what you are doing, fine. Do it. I'm not going to try and stop you."

"Mark I…"

Mark stared at Roger. He couldn't read him. Mark could always read Roger. But not this time. All he could tell was that Roger had to tell him something. Something he didn't want to have to tell Mark. That's when he saw it. Roger's suitcase. It was sitting on the floor with his guitar, just off to the side of the door. Packed and ready to go. Suddenly Mark understood. "You bastard!" He yelled at Roger.

At that Roger was surprised. Surprised and confused. "Mark… I…"

"No!" Mark yelled at him. Fine! He wants to play with a crappy band, fine, but this was more than Mark was prepared for. Suddenly he was really, really pissed at Roger again. "No! I don't want to hear it! You're leaving! Running away! _Again!_ You don't want to listen to me so you're just going to pack up and take off! You lousy chicken shit bastard! Damn you!" Years of Mark's frustrations over Roger poured out of him as he slammed down his keys and camera on the counter. "Were you planning on even telling me, or just taking off? Did I screw up your great escape plan by coming home early you rotten chicken shit bastard?"

Suddenly Roger understood. Understood and felt bad. Real bad. Because he knew Mark could have been right. Roger had a history of just taking off when things got bad. Running away. Dumping Mark. And then, later, come crawling back to Mark to for him to pick up the pieces. No, Roger wasn't running away this time. On one hand, he almost wished he were because then he wouldn't have to tell Mark what he was about to tell him. But then if he had actually been taking off on him, Roger realized the hurt and pain in his best friends eyes at that moment would have haunted him until he returned.

"No… no Mark." He said softly as he shook his head. "I'm, I'm not leaving. At least not leaving you."

"You're not?" Mark asked skeptically.

"No."

Roger stepped toward Mark in a very un-Roger way. As he did, Mark felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. Like the feeling you get on a roller coaster as you go over the big hill and you can't see what's at the bottom. He knew something bad was about to come.

"Listen Mark," Roger put a hand on his shoulder. "Listen Cindy called earlier. I talked to her. I, I didn't know where you were or how to find you."

"Cindy?"

"Come sit down." He pulled him towards the couch. "We need to talk."


	2. chapter 2

A/N Well thank you to all my reviewers. Hopefully I've proofed this chapter a little better. I was rushing to get the first chapter out and things obviously slipped by me. Usually I do better than that.

I have to say I was a little surprised at the reactions I did get. I guess I never thought of it as _that much_ of a cliffhanger! Glad you guys liked it!

And to Becca – I LOVE Mimi! I just don't really know how to write Mimi. And truthfully, I can have more fun toying with the boys emotions with Mimi not around!

Chapter 2

In the time between Cindy's phone call and Mark's arrival home, Roger realized he'd managed to get a lot accomplished. He'd called Collins, Maureen and Joanne. He'd met Joanne's assistant in front of the Life Café where she was waiting on him to loan him Joanne's car. He'd located all the parts to an old suit that Benny had given him a few years back. He got directions from Mark's brother in law Jeff. He packed up his stuff. He even pulled together some stuff for Mark to make packing easier on him. And then he waited.

The waiting had been miserable. Just sitting there waiting for Mark to come home. Waiting to tell him. The waiting was as bad as the telling.

Mark hadn't said much. He asked some questions, but not many. Mainly he just listened to everything Roger had told him. He asked a few more questions at Cindy's house. He even ate a little bit of dinner that Cindy's mother in law came over and made. Since then he had been really quiet. Roger pulled into the driveway Mark pointed at and turned off the car. He'd been to Mark's parent's house a couple of times before, for quick dinners or something. But it had been a few years at this point.

He grabbed his bag and guitar and followed Mark up to the back door. With the porch light off Mark fumbled with the keys a moment before getting the door open. They walked in and Mark flipped on the kitchen light. Then he just stood there for a moment looking around.

"I should clean this up." He said, glancing around at the plates, dried sticky with pancake syrup sitting on the kitchen table and the juice cups, coffee mugs and mixing bowl with crusted pancake batter all stacked in the sink. "My mom hates dishes piled in the sink and on the counter. That's like her biggest pet peeve in the world. I, I should really clean this up for her."

Roger pushed the back door closed, shutting out the cold evening air. "We'll take care of it later. Okay? Let's take this stuff upstairs first. Get settled and everything."

Mark gave a small nod and started towards the entry hall. Roger could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock from the living room as they reached the steps. That was it. The only sound in the house. That and the soft sound of their footsteps on the padded rug as they climbed the stairs.

On the second floor Mark paused ever so slightly as he looked at the door to his left. Roger vaguely remembered it was his parent's room. They continued down the hall some.

"My dad converted the guest room into an office after I completely moved out. You can sleep in my old room. My mom made that into a sewing and guest room I guess." Mark opened the door. The bed was covered in pieces of fabric. There were two distinct piles, spread out into two basic patterns. "She said something about making quilts." He told Roger as he picked up two large chunks of fabric, one from each pile. One had guitars on it one had reels of film on it. "I'm thinking she's making one for each of us." He held out the guitars for Roger to see. "Since we're always complaining about how cold it gets at night in the loft."

"Maybe." Roger agreed. "Maybe we shouldn't mess with all this stuff."

"Yeah maybe. We can sleep in Cindy's room. My mom has been re-doing it for the girls. She said they were all excited about it." He told Roger as he headed back out into the hall. "I'll warn you though, I mean you met my nieces. They're pretty girlie. And my mom pretty much just eats that up." Mark opened the door and flipped on the light.  
  
"Oh my God." Roger said, somewhat disgustedly.

"Wow. That's like, wow. I mean it's like… really…"

"Nauseating."

"Yeah." The two of them looked around the room. The walls were a bright pink. The curtains were a frilly pink. The two twin beds had Barbie sheets, pillowcases and comforters with lacey pink dust ruffles.

There was a Barbie playhouse, camper, pool and pink corvette. All complete with various Barbies in them. There were Barbie stickers on the windows, the white and pink dressers and the heart shaped mirror. There was a Barbie wallpaper border that circled the room about waist high. A small scalloped edge shelf circled the room up near the ceiling. On it sat too many Beanie Babies to count. Along one wall the shelf contained Barbies on stands. All in either wedding dresses or other fancy type dresses. In the one corner of the room sat a child size table and four chairs. A pink and white tea set sat on the table. In two of the chairs sat two Barbies. Each was about three feet tall. Roger guessed they were life size to a six-year-old. They were even wearing pink tutus.

"This is almost, disturbing." Roger managed to say.

"She's lost her mind. Or my dad has. He must of lost his mind to let her do this. I get grief for 'borrowing' toilet paper, soap, sheets and towels after I move out. But she can do this to a room?"

"Mark, I gotta tell you. I don't think I can sleep in here. Besides the pink, the frilly stuff and the Barbie sheets, it's all the dumb dolls. It's like they're staring at me. It's a little freaky."

"Yeah it is kind of like a Pepto Bismo truck blew up in a Barbie factory." He flipped off the light and they stepped back into the hall. Mark looked around for a second, his eyes hesitantly settling on the door at the end of the hall near the stairs. "Um, I guess, I guess we could sleep in there." He nodded in the direction of the door.

Roger took all this in. "We don't have to. I mean we can just sleep on the couches downstairs. I mean if you don't want to sleep in there."  
  
"Um yeah. Let's do that. That, uh, that'd be easier. You know, in case they need to get stuff out of there or anything." He nodded. "Actually we can sleep on the pull out. In the basement den. It's a queen size sleeper sofa."  
  
Roger watched the relief wash over Mark's face. "Okay. Let's do that."

When they got to the basement the first thing Roger did was turn on the TV. The silence in the house was starting to really get on his nerves. It's never this quiet in the loft he thought. You can always hear people in other apartments and in the halls. Not to mention all the noise that comes in off the street. Plus he still wasn't sure what he should or shouldn't say to Mark. What was safe to talk about?

He changed into sweats and a tee shirt as Mark opened the couch then started to change. After he was done Mark flopped down next to him as Roger flipped channels on the television.

"So, um," he started hesitantly, "how are you doing?"  
  
"I'm okay. I think. I guess. I don't know. I'm almost too tired to think. What time is it?"  
  
"11:30. Which actually is pretty early for us, but yeah, I'm beat too. It's been a long day. A late night followed by an early morning and a long day."  
  
"Yeah. Um about this morning, sorry if I woke you up. With the doors and all."  
  
Roger gave a little grin. "It's okay. I've probably woke you up once or twice in the past."  
  
Mark cocked an eyebrow at him. "Once or twice?"  
  
"Yeah well…" Roger gave him a slight grin.

"Um, about last night…."

Roger picked up his pillow and threw it towards the foot of the bed as he flipped around. "Forget about it. You're right."  
  
"So what are you gonna do?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't want to think about it right now." He watched the TV for a moment. "Are you really okay?"  
  
"Yes. I'm fine. I just wanna go to sleep." He took off his glasses and set them on the end table, rolled over and pulled the blanket up.

"Okay. Goodnight."  
  
"Night."  
  
Roger watched him for a few seconds. Mark just lay there, trying to go to sleep. After a moment Roger turned back to the television.

Something jolted Roger awake. At first he was confused. The TV was on, but it wasn't his TV. It wasn't even his room. Mark. Mark's house. Well Mark's parent's house. That's right he and Mark were in Scaresdale at Mark's parent's house. He sat up and turned to where Mark had gone to sleep, but then realized Mark was gone.

Roger shook his head to clear it as he looked at his watch. 1:30 AM. Where was Mark? He must be upstairs. As he climbed the basement steps he heard water running in the kitchen. The main light in the kitchen was off, but the light over the sink was on. Mark was standing in front of the sink, just watching the water pour into the pancake batter bowl and flow over its side.

"Mark?" Roger called to him softly as he entered the kitchen. "Mark?" He said again.

Mark wiped at his eyes under his glasses. "I gotta do the dishes. My mom hates dirty dishes laying on the counter."

"I know. You want me to help you?" Roger asked him, picking up the sponge.

Mark just continued staring at the water in the sink. "Pancakes." He finally mumbled.

"What?"  
  
"Blueberry pancakes"  
  
"You want blueberry pancakes?" Roger asked, quickly realizing he really didn't know how to make blueberry pancakes.

"My mom makes blueberry pancakes on Saturdays. She made them this morning. I talked to her."  
  
"You did?" Roger turned off the water as Mark turned around and leaned against the sink.

"Uh huh. She called me. This morning. Before I went out to film." He slid down and sat on the floor.

"What did she say?" Roger asked, sitting down next to him.

"The girls spent the night. She made them pancakes. She always did that. When me and Cindy were growing up she always made pancakes. It was a really big deal to her."  
  
"That's kind of cool. All my mom ever made for breakfast was Pop Tarts."

"I think that's one of the reasons she was all excited about re-doing Cindy's room for the girls. So she could do pancakes and stuff again." He let out a small sob.

"She was going on about pancakes, and I was still pissed at you and I wasn't really listening. She kept talking and I wasn't listening."

Roger rested his head against the cupboard. "I'm sorry."

"The girls were eating breakfast and my dad was hurrying them up. They had to drop the girls off at their dance class. Then they were going shopping. He was buying my mom new golf clubs. They had a 3:00 PM tee time. He kept going on about stupid golf clubs. And he kept telling her he wanted to talk to me. That he was going to call me later that night."

"I'm sorry Mark."  
  
"She kept going on about pancakes and he kept making golf jokes. I wasn't listening. I didn't care. I was pissed at you and I didn't care." He started to cry. "I didn't want to talk to my dad, I didn't care about golf clubs and I wasn't listening to my mother go on about pancakes."

Roger put an arm around his shoulder and pulled him over. "I'm sorry Mark."

"I wasn't listening. I never listen." He ran his hands up his face and under his glasses. "I never listen to her. I never want to talk to my dad. He hates me any ways. They're constantly disappointed in every decision I've ever made in my life. And as usual I wasn't listening to them.

"All I've ever done is fuck up everything they've ever wanted me to do. Everything. I couldn't even sit there and take two fucking minutes and just listen to her get all excited about making my nieces pancakes and him go on about golf clubs." He cried.

"Mark you didn't do anything."

"You're right. I never did anything. Nothing. And now look. Just like that." He snapped his fingers. "They're dead! Just like that! They're both dead!"


	3. chapter 3

A/N Sorry for the long delay in updating. I was having a hard time with the ending of this chapter, and then after all the reworkign, I ended up cutting the problem ending out and pushing it into the next chapter. And while this chapter is now not critical to the story line at this point at all, when I realized the situation I put a certain character into, I realized I couldn't possibly deny you all of this image!

Thanks for keeping up with me!

Kelby

Chapter 3

They heard the little girl shuffling her feet across the floor in what was obviously an old pair of her mother's high heels. She had a small plastic tiara on her head and was wearing a costume dress that Collins knew was from one of the characters of a Disney movie. Which one he had no idea.

"Hi." She said looking up at them through the screen door.

"Hi." Joanne smiled down at her. "I bet you're one of Cindy's little girls?" The little girl nodded at her. "Well we're friends of you Uncle Mark. Is he here?"

"No." She shook her head back and forth causing her big plastic clip on earrings to shake.

"Oh. Well is your mommy here?" Collins asked her.

"No. She's with Daddy and Uncle Mark. You wanna talk to our babysitter?"

"Sure." Joanne smiled at the little girl opened the door for them.

"We're playing dress up. And having a tea party." She led them into the kitchen.

Once there Collins didn't know if he'd be able to contain himself. "You're the babysitter?" He laughed.

"Well that explains the six year old answering the door by herself and letting complete strangers in." Joanne told him in a disapproving voice.

Roger looked up at them. He wasn't sure if he should be grateful for back up at this moment or completely mortified they had seen him like this. All six foot two of him was sitting on a little kid plastic chair. He had about five plastic beaded necklaces around his neck along with one red and one blue fuzzy dress up boa. There were clip on plastic earrings nestled between his real earrings running up both ears. And to top it all off the four year old kept trying to put a pink and silver plastic tiara on his head.

"Roger you gotta wear it! You're the prince! The prince needs a pretty tiara too!" She told him, trying again to jam the small crown on his head.

"What are you two doing here?" He asked almost mortified.

"We came to check on you and Mark." Joanne managed through a grin.

"But since we see you've got everything under control," Collins laughed, wiping tears from his eyes, "maybe we should go and leave you to your tea party."

"Ha ha. Very funny." Roger grumbled, standing up.

"And Mark not around with his camera." Joanne smirked.

Collins was still laughing so hard he almost couldn't catch his breath. "Buddy I've got to tell you, I've known a number of drag queens, and you my friend would make a lousy drag queen." He was holding his stomach he was laughing so hard.

"Yes but think what fun Angel could have had trying. Roger would certainly have been a project." Joanne teased.

"Oh shut up! Both of you!"

"Roger! That's another bad word! You're gonna get in trouble." Six year old Brittany told him, hands on her hips.

"Another bad word? Roger!" Joanne scolded him. "So what are you guys doing?" She asked the girls.

"I'm a princess!" Four year old Ashlyn told her. "And Brittany's a princess. And Roger's the prince."

"Was he a frog first?" Collins asked breaking into a whole new fit of laughter.

Roger rolled his eyes at him as Joanne suppressed a giggle.

"Okay well King Roger says you guys should go watch TV for awhile."

"No! Tea party!" Brittany yelled.

"Yeah tea party!" Ashlyn chimed in jumping up and down.

"Not now. Here," he said reaching for his wallet and handing them each a dollar. Let me talk to Collins and Joanne for awhile."  
  
With dollars in hand they ran off to the living room. Roger started pulling off the necklaces, earrings and boas. All of which sent fresh waves of laughter through Collins. "Oh shut up already." He told him.

"Now Roger, language." Joanne grinned.

"Yeah you shut up too. And not that I'm not grateful she's not standing here too at this moment to see this, but where's the mouth?"

This caused Collins to crack up yet again. Joanne gave both of them a look before continuing. "She's working. We just came up for the evening to see how you two were and if you needed anything."

"Oh. Well I'm glad you're here anyway. I'm running out of money. Either of you got any singles? This babysitting thing is expensive."  
  
Joanne just looked at him for a second. "What do you mean? You're the babysitter. Babysitters usually _make_ money."

"Roger, what's for dinner?" Brittany called from the living room. "We're hungry."

"Um, I don't know yet. I'll make you something in a minute." He called back as he walked to the fridge. He pulled out three sodas and took them over to the dining room table where Collins and Joanne had sat down.

"Yeah well," he handed them the sodas and went back to the kitchen. "First it was a dollar each to stop crying after Cindy left. Then a dollar each so they'd stop fighting over a Barbie. Two dollars for Brittany to go wipe Ashlyn's butt because for some reason she wouldn't and she wanted me to do. Then another dollar each so I wouldn't have to play some game called 'Pretty, Pretty Princess.' I don't know what it is, but I am not playing any game called that." He said while rummaging through the cabinets. "And then those two dollars there. That was it on my singles. At this rate they'll have to make me change."

"Roger you're not supposed too... never mind." Joanne shook her head.

"I think they caught on to the fact that I don't really know what I'm doing." Roger told them as he dumped something onto two plates.

"Ya think?" Collins laughed again.

"Roger, don't pay them any more money. You have to let them know who is in, wait, what is that?" Joanne pointed to the two plates in his hands.

"Dinner." Roger shrugged. "They said they were hungry."

"No. Forget it. Just because you and Mark act like a couple of little kids and you two eat like that, doesn't mean real little kids eat like that. You are not feeding them Pop tarts, marshmallows and goldfish for dinner. I'll make them something." She took the plates from him and headed back toward the sink.

Joanne made what she felt was a more appropriate dinner and took it, along with glasses of milk into the girls. After making them promise to be extra careful eating in there, she put a DVD in and returned to the dining room where Roger and Collins had begun munching on the marshmallows.

"They're cute little girls." She said sitting down.

"You made kind of a cute little girl yourself there Rog." Collins grinned, trying hard not to lose it again.

"Oh alright. Can we please drop it? If it was anyone other than Mark's nieces you know there's no way in hell I would have been doing any of that."

"Language Mr. Davis!" Joanne scolded. "But speaking of Mark, how is he doing?"  
  
Roger let out a sigh. You know Mark. He keeps claiming he's fine. He hasn't said much. He did kinda lose it last night though. He thinks he's a horrible son because he never listened to his mom when she called. And he kept going on about how he's always been this huge disappointment to his parents and stuff like that. He's beating himself up pretty bad."

"Poor Mark." Joanne shook her head. "Where is he now?"  
  
"Him and Cindy and Cindy's husband Martin are out making funeral arrangements. Martin's mom is over at the Cohen's cleaning everything up and getting ready for tomorrow. After the funeral everyone is going over there I guess."

"Okay. Are you two all set? Do you need anything for tomorrow?" Collins asked.

"No. Martin's mom took our suits to get them dry cleaned today. Cindy, Martin and the girls are going to come over there to the house tomorrow morning. The cars are going to pick us up from there."

"Okay. We'll meet you guys at the house tomorrow and just follow you from there." Joanne told him.

"Okay." Roger nodded. "Wait? If I've got your car, how did you get here today? And how are you getting here tomorrow?"  
  
Collins shrugged. "I called Benny to tell him. He lent us his car for tonight and tomorrow. He and Allison are coming up in her car tomorrow. I expect both of you to behave. For Mark's sake." Collins glared at Roger as he said the last part.

Roger couldn't meet Collins' eyes. He knew Collins was referring back to what happened at Angel's funeral. He kept his eyes on his beer bottle as he spoke. "Don't worry about it. We'll be fine."

"So what exactly happened?" Joanne asked.

Roger sighed as he sat back in his chair and gave a little shrug. "The girls spent the night. Mark's mom made pancakes for breakfast and they left. They dropped the girls off at dance class and then got on the highway. The cops said Mr. Cohen was doing almost seventy. But apparently that wasn't fast enough for the idiot who pasted him on the right. I guess he was trying to just be an ass and cut right in front of him and he misjudged or something. The cops said Mr. Cohen must have seen it coming and tried to slam on the breaks. But the guy hit them just right and the car flipped.

"Meanwhile there was a delivery truck on the side of the road jacked up to change a tire. When the Cohen's car flipped it slid right into the jacked up side of the truck, bringing that truck down on part of the car. The cops told Martin they were both dead at the scene."

"That's horrible." Joanne exclaimed.

"Yeah, that's really rough." Collins added, shaking his head.

Mark was already in the bed when Roger flopped down at the foot of it, making the sofa bed pop up for a second. "Watch it!" Mark yelled at him as he grabbed at the couch's arm rest.

"Sorry." Roger told him as he flipped on the TV.

"Just be careful." Mark told him as he rubbed at his eyes under his glasses. I can't believe Joanne cut us off like that."

"Yeah I know. But at the same time she had a point. I mean do you really want to do tomorrow with a hangover?"

"No. I guess not. But then again I don't want to do tomorrow at all."

Roger flipped himself around so he was sitting next to Mark. "Don't worry." He told him as he put an arm around his shoulder. "I'll be with you the whole time."

"I know. And I really appreciate that."

"No problem." Roger gave him a little squeeze. "Now let's watch TV on the cable channels we can't afford. A little light porn will help take your mind off tomorrow!"

"You're crazy." Mark gave a little grin.

"Crazy like a fox Buddy! Crazy like a fox!" He gave Mark another squeeze around the shoulders before picking up the remote and flipping channels again.


	4. chapter 4

A/N Well like I said before, the last chapter wasn't exactly all that important. It easily could have been edited out, but once I had that image of Roger babysitting little girls! There was no way I could deprive you all of that image! So glad you all enjoyed it! And can't you just totally see Roger paying kids to behave?

Well moving on with the next chapter. Not overly thrilled with it. Truthfully, I'm not over thrilled with the entire thing. However I will persevere and eventually bring this to a final close. So don't worry about leaving you hanging. I do however have to say I've been pleasantly surprised by my reviews. I never really considered the previous chapters to be as much of a cliff hanger at times as it seems some of my readers have found them. I also hadn't intended to imply as much of a slash-ness as it seems some people have read into it (dirty, dirty minds out there!). Is it meant to be a Mark/Roger slash? Maybe. Maybe not. Will it end up that way in the end? Guess you'll have to hang in there to find out!

Thanks for reading and sticking with me. As I said, I'm not overly thrilled with this. It is however helping me get back into fic writing. And I've got some nice little juicy story lines running around my head at the moment. Hopefully we'll get some of those out there soon. For now, enjoy!

Chapter 4

"Mark you really should eat something more." Joanne said as she cleaned up the bagels she, Maureen and Collins had brought with them that morning. "If for no other reason than to have something more in your stomach than all that coffee you've been drinking."

"Yeah Marky," Maureen said through a mouthful of bagel. "You know how you get."

"Maureen will you _please _finish the food in your mouth before you start to speak."

Maureen gave a look of annoyance as she rolled her eyes at Joanne. She made a production of swallowing the remaining food in her mouth and then turned back to Mark. "All I'm saying is you know how jittery and nervous you get on too much caffeine and no food. It's not a pretty picture. I mean you don't want to be bouncing around spilling things all day do you? With all those people watching every move you make today? Especially while you're up there talking and all?"

Roger watched Mark's eyes go wide in a slight panic. Collins had obviously seen it too as he tried to shut Maureen up with the offer of more bagels, which she unfortunately refused.

It usually didn't take long for Maureen to annoy Roger. And today was no exception. On top of being her usual loud, obnoxious, self-centered, pain in the ass self, Roger couldn't believe she had to balls to wear the outfit she had on to a funeral. Especially one for Mark's parents. And knowing full well what kind of people were going to be at this thing today too. He also knew he wasn't the only one. She and Joanne where discussing the fact that Joanne had brought her a few 'alternate' outfits to try on in case she didn't want to button up her top more or wear a jacket today. Roger had a feeling neither of those choices would actually be happening today.

"Mark you two need to finish getting ready. Cindy and Martin will be here soon." Collins told them, looking at his watch.

"Yeah, okay." Mark stood up in his dress pants and a tee shirt. He had been afraid he'd spill something on his clothes at breakfast.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot." Maureen said, digging in her purse. "Here." She handed Mark a note. "Mimi wanted me to give this to you. She said she didn't have time to get you a card or anything."

"Oh. Thanks." Mark took the note and scanned through the few lines written on the notebook paper. "Yeah, that was nice of her. Okay. I gotta get dressed. You too Rog."

"Huh?" His head snapped up from where he had been looking at the note Mark had laid on the table. "Yeah, I'm coming. Just let me finish my coffee and brush my teeth."

"Okay." Mark said as he headed out of the kitchen and down the basement stairs. Roger looked to Maureen. "So you um, you saw Mimi?"

"Yes I did." Maureen told him defiantly as she stood up, placing her hands on her hips. "And I don't want to hear it from you! I can be friends with who ever the hell I please!"

"Maureen settle down." Joanne told her.

Roger was about to tell Maureen what a bitch he thought she was but he realized Collins knew what he was thinking and was silently shaking his head to tell him not too even start with her.

"How is she?" He asked softly, taking Maureen by surprise.

"She's doing okay. Not great, but okay. She's living with a couple of girls from the club." She dug into her purse. "She wanted me to give you this." She handed him a folded up piece of paper.

"Oh. Um, thanks." He looked down at the note then back at his friends. "I gotta go finish getting ready." As he headed towards the stairs he heard Joanne start in on Maureen about her outfit again. As he reached the bathroom the last thing he heard before closing the door was Collins informing Maureen that if she intended on going to the funeral and being supportive for Mark, not only was she changing her clothes, but she was also going to keep her mouth shut today as well.

Roger knew the only person Maureen has ever listened to was Collins. And hearing him tell her that would usually amuse him to no end, but not right now.

He leaned against the sink as he stared down at his own name written in Mimi's loopy, messy writing. Slowly he opened it up. The handwriting had a slight quiver to it and he knew immediately she was starting to hurt when she was writing it. He took a deep breath and started to read.

_Roger,_

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry for a lot of things. _

_Take care of Mark. He'll need you. You owe it to him anyway, _

_but he still needs you. As, much as you need him. And you've never been_

_able to see how much you needed someone to need you. I'm sorry I _

_couldn't need you that much._

_Take care of Mark._

_--Mimi_

That was it? Take care of Mark? You need someone to need you? What was she talking about?

Roger realized he didn't have time to try and figure out what was going on in the strung out mind of his ex-girlfriend right now. He quickly brushed his teeth and went into the den where he and Mark had been sleeping.

Mark was yanking his tie loose as he talked to himself while pacing around the room. As Roger put on the tie that went with his suit he realized Mark was rehearsing the eulogy he was supposed to give this morning.

When Roger watched him undo his tie for the third time he finally stepped in front of him. "Here let me do it for you."

"I can't do this."

"I said I'd tie it." Holding the ends of Mark's tie Roger crossed one hand over the other before first switching them back the other way and then switching them back to the way he originally started.

"Not the tie! This! This whole thing!"

"Yes you can. I'll be right there with you. But I can't tie this with you facing me, it's all backwards. Turn around and go into the bathroom, I need a mirror."

Mark did as he was told and Roger reached around him and started to do up his tie.

"They want me to stand up there and talk about two people I don't even know! Do you know that? I don't know them! Not like all these other people will! Not like they think I should! I only know them as the people who were constantly disappointed in their fuck up son who couldn't do anything they wanted. Not that they ever cared about what I ever wanted, but still."

"You can do this. I'll be right there. I promise. So will Collins and Joanne. And Maureen. And no one is expecting you to give some incredible speech or anything. Just say a few things. It won't be as bad as you imagine. And quit being so hard on yourself. You want to hear about fuck up kids, I'll take you to see my mom. Just relax." He said as he finished the tie. "Turn around and let me see it."  
  
Mark turned and looked up at Roger with those sad, desperate eyes. Without thinking Roger just reached out and hugged him tight. "It'll be okay. Really."


	5. chapter 5

A/N Wow you people seem to have a little problem in the slash department! Slash wasn't really the purpose of this whole fic. Actually, as I was telling Becca, it all started with one single line that I came up with and I had to work a whole fic around that one line. And that line hasn't even been said yet! So basically I've been working from the end towards the beginning to figure this whole fic out. Maybe that's why this one has been more difficult to put together.

Anyway, I hope you like it. I neither promise or deny slash. Guess you have to wait and see. And there is at least one chapter more after this one. Hopefully I'll get it up quickly as I've got something else I really want to work on. One I've had sitting on the back burner simmering away in my twisted little mind for awhile now. Hopefully I'll get that one up soon. Happy reading and thanks to all my twisted little slash needing reviewers!

Kelby

Chapter 5

"Mark, you sister's here. And the car. Are you guys ready?" Collins called down the stairs.

Roger gave Mark one final squeeze. "Don't worry."

"Thanks." Mark told him, letting him go and wiping his eyes under his glasses. "Yeah, we're coming." He yelled back up the stairs.

They finished getting ready and headed up the stairs. Roger felt so bad for Mark. The whole thing with his parents was bad enough. But he knew the thought of having to stand up in front of all those people and speak was just about terrifying Mark.

Mark was the camera man, the director, the writer. He was never the star. Roger knew one of the reasons Mark was so comfortable behind his camera, was simply that. He was behind something. There was no comfort zone what so ever for Mark out in front of a crowd of people. Sure he could get up and raise hell and dance on tables with his friends. But that's now. After years of being pulled out of a shell of perpetual shyness by them all. It was a comfort level he would never have today. Yes, Roger knew that burying his parents would be hard for Mark. But he also knew giving a eulogy for them was going to be just about sheer torture for him.

And it wasn't going to be just the eulogy. It was going to be all the people. Roger remembered his grandfather's funeral in the weeks before he left for New York. People he didn't know at all kept coming up and talking to him. Like he should know them. Like they knew him. Telling him how sorry they were. How his grandfather would be missed. Throwing arms around his shoulders and hugging him tight.

Mark didn't like to be the center of a crowd. He didn't like to be overly noticed. Paid too much attention to. He liked to quietly sit back and observe. Roger knew no matter how hard Mark tried today, that wasn't going to happen. Especially considering the sudden and horrible nature surrounding the Cohen's death. Everyone would have an opinion. A thought. A comment. All to give Mark. To try and make him feel better. What none of them would understand, that the thing that would make Mark feel better would be to just leave him somewhat alone.

They climbed the stairs to the kitchen. Cindy was going over last minute things with her Mother-in-law's two friends who were going to help set up the food for afterward. Collins was getting directions from Martin's father. Maureen, sat quietly pouting in a chair by the door, having changed into an outfit that was extremely very un-Maureen like. But Roger had to admit it was more funeral appropriate.

Cindy noticed their arrival at the top of the stairs and stopped speaking mid sentence. "Oh Marky!" She grabbed him, squeezing tightly and not letting go.

After a moment Roger noticed Mark's face starting to get red from her squeezing so hard. He was about to say something when Martin looked at his watch and announced they had to leave right now.

Roger moved Mark along and walked out the back door, following Joanne and Maureen who headed towards Benny's borrowed car parked out on the street. The funeral home limo driver opened up the back door letting Cindy and the girls into the car. Just before getting in Martin turned to Collins.

"You're all set on the directions?"

"Oh yeah, we'll be fine. If I can keep up with Maureen on the streets of New York, I think I can manage to keep from loosing this thing on the streets of Scarsdale. Besides your dad gave me very exact directions."

Martin let out a little laugh. "Yeah, I bet. Down to the tenth of mile Dad?" He smiled at his father who gave a little grin.

"Not that exact this time."

"Martin we need to get moving. We don't want to be late. It wouldn't look good." His mother told him, but it was aimed toward the whole group.

Martin took a quick glance at his watch. "Yeah we have to get going. We'll see you all there."

"Okay, we'll see you there Mark." Collins told him, giving him a hug.

"Um, yeah, okay." Mark nodded uneasily.

"Yeah, we'll see you there." Roger told him, about to follow Collins and Martin's parents down the driveway.

"Wait!" Mark reached out and grabbed Roger's hand tightly, stopping him from walking and causing all the others to look back at him. "You're not coming with me?"

"What? Now?"

"Mark dear, it should really only be family in the car." Martin's mom told him in a somewhat patronizing tone. "Just you, Cindy, Martin and the girls."

"But..."

"Mom, Roger is Mark's family." Martin told her. "If Mark wants him to ride with us, he rides with us."

"Martin that really won't look right, showing up with friends riding with you."

"We have to go. Come on get in." Martin told Roger and Mark. "We'll see you there Mom." He let Mark and Roger climb in before climbing in himself and closing the door.

Roger had already shed his suit and was sitting on the edge of the sofa bed sweats and a tee shirt strumming his guitar when Mark walked down the stairs into the den yanking open his tie.

"I thought Martin's mom would never leave." He told Roger as he flopped onto the bed. God she's a pain in the ass.

"Yeah but Martin sure doesn't take crap from her. Did you see the look on her face when he told her I was riding with you this morning? I think she was a little pissed."

"Yeah well, I don't really care. I mean I really appreciate everything she did and all, but still. However there is still a ton of food up there. We'll have stuff to eat for awhile." He stood back up and took off his pants and dress shirt, changing into sweats and tee shirt as well.

Roger kept playing guitar for another few moments. "I'll be right back." He got up and went up the stairs. When he came back down he was caring a bottle of scotch and two glasses. "I found this in the cupboard the other night when I was looking for food."

"Oh yeah, my dad's scotch. That's his good stuff too. He used to hide it. I'm not sure if it was supposed to be hidden from me and Cindy or from my mother. I mean we always knew where it was, but it was supposedly hidden."

"Well I figured after today, you could use a drink. A real drink as opposed to our usual selection of cheap watered down beer that is."

"Sure why not." Mark sat up some against the back of the couch as Roger stepped up onto the sofa mattress and walked across it, sitting down opposite Mark.

Roger poured two glasses, handing one to Mark. "To your parents, who with out them, we wouldn't have had our Marky."

Mark let out a little laugh. "Too true. Or our hot plate, our couch, our dishes, our pots and pans, our TV, our answering machine, our sheets, our towels..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get the point." Roger laughed. "Just drink."

Mark held up his glass and clinked it with Roger's. "To my parents." He tipped back his glass and drank down the liquid. "Oh my God that's horrible!"

Roger couldn't help but laugh. "It's scotch Mark. You're supposed to sip it some, not down it like comocosies on dollar shot night!"

He let out a little cough. "Yeah, okay, whatever. Give me a little more." Roger obliged and poured more into the glass that Mark held up. "To my parents, who... who..." Mark put his glass back down. "You know you'd think I'd be able to come up with something about my parents I can toast about."

Roger leaned back into the corner of the couch. "You could. You just aren't thinking clearly right now." He told him picking his guitar back up and starting to strum it.

"Yeah I suppose." Mark said, sipping some more of his scotch.

With out looking up from his guitar Roger spoke. "You did real good today. Giving that speech and all. I know that was really hard for you, but you did really good."

"Thanks. Really. Through this whole thing you've been great. I don't know what I would have done without you."

"No problem buddy, that's what best friends are for." He took a sip of scotch and went back to picking out chords on his guitar.

"Hey what was going on just before I got up to give my eulogy? Why were you guys all moving seats?" Mark asked as he poured more scotch into his glass.

Roger let out a little laugh. "Oh that. Well the last thing I said to you before you got up was not to pay attention to everybody else, just say it like you're saying it just to me. I mean it's not like you haven't given me enough lectures over the years!"

"That's true I suppose." Mark grinned, sipping more scotch.

"Well as you got up Collins realized that if you were trying to pay attention to me, and only me while you where talking, that might be easier if Maureen wasn't sitting right next to me. So he made her move down to the other side of him, putting himself and Joanne between me and her." He laughed. "Probably a good move."

"Probably." Mark let out a little laugh. "She would not have been useful at that moment."

"Maureen has useful moments?" Roger asked trying to sound astonished.

"Behave." Mark leaned back onto the back of the couch.

"Okay. Sorry." Roger kept playing the guitar as the two fell silent for a few moments. After a few minutes Roger spoke again. "So how are you? Really?"

"I don't know." Mark told him with his eyes closed. "Somewhat numb I guess."

"That's the scotch." Roger grinned at him.

"Maybe. But not completely. I mean I just, I just, I don't know how to put it into words. Like I'm sort of in between emotions or something. Something that I just can't, you know, find words for. I sort of feel like I'm here, but I'm not. Like I'm in some alternate universe or some kind of fog or something. I don't know. I can't explain it."

"I know what you mean." Roger said softly, picking out notes on the guitar. "Trust me, I know exactly what you mean."

"You do?" Mark asked, somewhat amazed.

"Hello? Have you been paying attention to my life at all the last few years?" Roger just looked at him for a moment before cracking a little grin. "Seriously though, I do know what you mean."

"Oh." Mark said quietly. "Sorry."

"For what?" Roger asked between guitar notes. "You didn't screw up anything in my life. I did. Hell you've been about the best thing that's ever been in my life."

"Thanks." Mark said, as an embarrassed blush crept over his cheeks.

"Don't sweat it." Roger smiled at him. "And don't worry about all this stuff. It'll get better. I promise." He played a scale as he said it.

Mark watched his hands. "God you make that look so easy."

"It is easy. Here I'll show you." He moved to hand Mark the guitar.

"No I can't do it." 

"Yes you can. I'll show you." Roger got up on his knees, took Mark's drink from his hand and placed the guitar in it. "Now put these fingers here, and these here." He placed Mark's fingers on the strings. "No wait put them this way, I mean..."

"Easy huh?" Mark laughed.

"Well it's like the tie thing, I can't do it backwards. Scoot up some." Mark did as he was told and Roger sat down behind him, placing his hands on top of Mark's. "Now press down these strings with this hand and with the pick in this hand run it over these three strings." He said into Mark's ear.

Mark let Roger move his hands. "Wow, I did it." He grinned.

"Of course you did. Because I'm an excellent guitar teacher."

"Whatever you say Rog." Mark grinned. He played the chord a few more times before he stopped and turned his head to face Roger. "Thank you. For everything. Really."

Roger didn't know if it was the scotch, the emotional roller coaster they had been on the last few days or the fact that he all but had Mark in his lap with his arms around him, but the next thing he knew, Mark was thanking him. And Roger was kissing Mark. And Mark was kissing him back.


	6. chapter 6

A/N Let me first and foremost apologize to everyone for the long wait on this. I would like to say it was my computer problems, which were certainly a factor. Currently I'm sharing a computer with my husband. This is just doing _loads_ for our marriage. (That should be read with heavy sarcasm!) Secondly of course were the holidays and all that involved. But I really have no real excuse. I just wasn't inspired to finish this one. I'm sorry. Finally I figured out a way to get it completed to a stage I was happy with. I hope you all are as well.

So please accept my apologies for my extreme tardiness in completely this. I hope you enjoy it. And thank you for sticking with me. And always remember, as Roger and Mark have shown us, life can change, simply in the blink of an eye!

Chapter 6

Roger ran his fingers up Mark's neck, pulling his face in close as he kissed him. Mark leaned into him, returning the kisses as his arms slid around his waist. After a moment Roger pulled back some as he held Mark's face in his hands. "Are you sure about this?" He asked softly.

"Yes." Mark told him, leaning his forehead against Roger's.

"I mean I just want to be sure. This is a really big thing."

"I'm sure." He kissed him.

"I just don't want you to regret this later on. I just wanna be sure you're ready."

"Rog…" He kissed him softly.

"No Mark, I just wanna be sure you're ready."

"I'm ready." He kissed him again.

"I mean it hasn't been that long. If you're not ready to do this yet, it's okay. I'm not gonna be mad or anything."

Finally Mark pulled back some, looking Roger in the eyes. "Rog, do you not want to do this?"

"What? No, yeah I wanna do this. I just wanna make sure you really want to do this. You know, for the right reasons and all. Like I said, it hasn't been that long and all."

Mark got a small, soft smile on his face. "You know I love you right?"

"Yeah I know, but…"

"It's okay. I'm ready to do this. God am I ready." He said looking around. "Yeah it's a little freaky, but it's time. It's really time. Besides, it's been almost four months."

"Okay, as long as you're sure and you know what you're getting yourself into."

"I know. And I want to do this. For us."

Roger got a small shy grin. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Mark's lips. "Okay then, let's go."

Mark smiled at him as he reached into the drawer. "Just let me grab one and we'll be ready." He dug through the drawer for a second before stopping. "It's not in here."

"Well we can't do it without one!" Roger let out a little laugh. "Where did you put them last? Check you wallet."

Mark's eyes lit up in recognition. "That's right! I put the last three in my wallet." He pulled out his wallet and showed them to Roger.

"Good!" Roger pulled him along. "Let's go!"

Roger and Mark made their way past the people standing inside the entrance to the Life Café. Collins waved as he saw them approach and began pouring them beers from the pitcher he was sharing with Maureen and Joanne.

"Well?" He asked, sliding the drinks in front of their seats. "Did you guys do it or not?"

There was a quick small glance between them followed by little grins before Mark answered. "Yeah, we did it!"

"Well it's about time!" Maureen exclaimed as she sipped her beer.

"I knew you could handle it Mark!" Collins told him.

"That's great you guys!" Joanne added. "This will be really good for you two."

"Yeah I was a little worried at first." Roger admitted.

"But you guys were right. Doing it will make a huge difference in our lives, that's for sure."

"I've got to tell you Mark, I almost wish we would have filmed the whole thing. Just to remember it by." Roger joked.

"Really?" Maureen asked, surprised.

"Oh Yeah! The look on his face! It was priceless!" He let out a laugh. "But it only hurt for a minute or two! Right Marky?"

"Ha! Easy for you to say! You weren't the one that just wrote out that huge check. The hugest check I've ever seen, not to mention the hugest check I've ever written." Mark grinned.

"True. However I was the one that thought to look in your wallet when you couldn't find your checkbook."

"That's true." Mark agreed as he looked across the room. "Hey there's Vinnie. And Tony."

Roger turned to where Mark was pointing and saw his old band mates Vinnie, a guitarist and his brother Tony, who played bass. "Vinnie!" He called over to the bar.

At the sound of his name Vinnie looked around before his eyes settled on Roger. He smiled, picked up his drink and walked over, followed by his brother. "Dude! How's it going?"

"Hey how you guys doing?" Roger asked.

"Hey Roger." Tony said before glaring at Mark. "Yoko."

Vinnie rolled his eyes at his younger brother. "For the last frigging time, Roger didn't dump us for Mark. Mark did not break up our band. And the Yoko joke is getting old after nearly four months! If you put in as much time practicing as you do bitching, we may someday be able to do something decent. Till then, shut up!"

"Whatever." Tony mumbled and stalked back over to the bar.

"Yoko?" Mark gave Vinnie a questioning look as everyone but Maureen laughed at the reference to the breakup of the Beatles.

"Don't mind him. He was just born an idiot. Plus I think I dropped him on his head a few too many times when we were little kids." He laughed as he shook his head. "So what are you guys doing?"

"Celebrating. Have a seat."

"Celebrating? You two aren't getting married or something are you? Rog we talked about how these groupies only want you for your fame, money and sex. And since you have neither fame or money…"

"Wait, first you call me 'Yoko', now I'm a groupie?" He asked as everyone laughed again.

"Actually Mark I've always thought of you as more of a personal assistant slash roadie." Collins joked.

"Oh whatever! Can we go back to the fact that I wrote out a huge frigging check today?"

"Certainly!" Joanne agreed as she raised her glass. "To Mark and Roger. May you have peace, bliss and happiness in your new apartment."

"Not to mention electricity, heat and hot water!" Maureen added as everyone laughed.

"To our new apartment." Mark said as they all clinked glasses.

"Wow you guys are really moving out of that dump?" Vinnie asked, somewhat amazed.

"Yup. Mark signed the papers this morning. After we found his checkbook that is." Roger grinned.

"That's so cool. So when do you move?"

"Actually the place is vacant. We can move in the end of this week if we want. The movers can't deliver the stuff until next Monday though." Mark explained.

"Movers? What have you two got to move?" Maureen laughed.

"Not movers from our place dummy." Roger snapped at her. "From his parent's house."

Mark could tell Vinnie was confused so he decided to explain. "Yeah, my parent's house closed last week. Hence the reason I had money to buy an apartment. From my half of the sale of their house. As for the movers, my sister has been going through their house, picking out things she wants, things she wants for my nieces, things to sell as well as things she feels we need."

"She suggested burning everything we own and just starting over." Roger laughed.

"Pretty much. And truthfully, it's not a bad idea." Mark laughed. "She keeps sending me lists of things she's pulled out. Either from my parent's house or from her house which she has just replaced with a better item from my mom's. Anyway, we're getting living room furniture, bedroom furniture, and kitchen table plus stuff like my parents TV and DVD player, their dishes, pot's, pans, silverware, towels, sheets, vacuum cleaner, blender, I've already got the computer-"

"Vacuum cleaner?" Roger interrupted him. "What the hell are we supposed to do with a vacuum cleaner?"

"Perhaps vacuum Roger?" Joanne laughed.

"Oh whatever." Roger grinned. "Here's to Marky. Who got us a great new apartment." He held up his beer mug while planting a quick kiss on Mark's cheek.

"To Marky." They all clinked glasses together again as Mark got a slight blush on his cheeks.

"Thanks again you guys." Roger said to the movers as he closed the front door after tipping them. He walked over and flopped down on the couch where Mark had just sat down and was looking at the piles and piles of things and boxes. "So you think your sister was envisioning us having about eight more rooms with all this stuff she sent or what?" He laughed.

Mark laughed too. "Yeah I think she sort of overstocked us. Come on, I'm starved. Let's get something to eat and worry about where we are going to put twelve sets of sheets and four dozen towels tomorrow." He stood up pulling Roger off the couch as he started to step away.

Roger pulled him back over to him, forcing them both back onto the couch before kissing him deeply. "Listen Marky," he paused for a moment, looking for the words. "I don't really know how to say this."

"Say what Rog?"

"Just, just thank you, for all this. The apartment. Us. Everything. Just thanks."

"No problem." Mark started to kiss him, but Roger pulled back.

"Wait, there's more. I guess I just want you to know that, while I really appreciate all this, and I love you, I'm just, just really sorry your parents had to die for all this to happen. For us to finally realize what we had together and all. I just wanted you to know that and all. Know that I'm real sorry about that."

"Thanks Roger. Thanks a lot." He hugged him.

"I love you Mark." Roger continued to hug him.

"I love you too."

The end.

A/N Well, did I get you? I know, I'm mean, making you all think there was going to be wild hot Roger/Mark sex in the beginning. Making you think they were looking for condoms when they were really just looking for Mark's checkbook. And then later, when it still wasn't clear what they had done, just everyone asking if they had done 'it' when they were referring to closing on the apartment. I admit it, I'm evil. But I'm entitled to my little bit of fun too you know. And if you kept thinking that that was what it had to be, then your mind lives in the gutter!

To Becca – remember when I said I developed this whole around one single line? A perfect line that I knew someday I would just have to use. Well it was finally used. In the end the story wasn't what I had originally planned. And the 'perfect line' didn't take on anywhere near the meaning it had in my original vision of it all. But it did work as a vessel to help carry the story along.

In the first chapter Roger and Mark are mad at each other because Mark has told Roger he's wasting his time with this band and that he needs to quit the band. Roger eventually agrees. And while we don't see any of this, after returning to the loft after the Cohen's funeral, Roger quits his band and their whole 'relationship' starts to develop.

Well, my perfect line was when the Tony, Roger's former band mate calls Mark "Yoko". Many people blamed Yoko Ono for breaking up the Beatles. For some reason this struck me as extremely funny. Roger quitting a band, and the whole band blaming it on Mark and calling Mark "Yoko".

While this is not one of my favorite works by any mean, I am glad I completed it. I had hoped to have more 'insight' into their relationship and other things. I think however it is best I end it now. One of the problems with it was I just wasn't loving it while I was writing it and as a result, I was thinking of other story lines as I worked through it. Hopefully the future will hold many new ideas. Thanks to everyone that has stuck with me to completion.

Kelby


End file.
